


and you may find yourself

by Emmar



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Self-Insert
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-18
Updated: 2019-05-11
Packaged: 2020-01-16 01:06:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18510790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emmar/pseuds/Emmar
Summary: Haruno Renji may not know if she was reborn into a fictional universe for a reason, but there's no way in hell she's going to let that stop her.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> aka the hana yori dango rework, because my brain said 'okay but what if' so. You get Renji growing up!! Trauma!! More canon characters!! DOGS!!!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Haruno Renji is a strange child, by anyone's standards.

The first word that comes to mind when Kizashi is handed his newborn daughter is _pale_. This is not an impression that much changes; her hair grows in the pale pink of the first blush of dawn, her eyes remain a shifting sea-green, and her skin looks like she’s never so much as conceived of the sun, let alone been out in it.

“It’s like someone dipped you in bleach,” says Sakumo, amused, over dinner, his own infant tucked into the crook of his elbow.  
“It kind of is,” Mebuki agrees, and leans over to press a kiss to the baby’s head.  
“What did you name her?”  
“Renji,” Kizashi says, and turns her towards his friend. “She and Kakashi will be in the same Academy year, I guess.”  
“Mm,” says Sakumo, and runs a gentle, gentle hand over the silvery fluff of Kakashi’s hair. “I guess.”

—

If asked, Renji wouldn’t be able to pinpoint exactly when she’d become aware of the fact that she hadn’t always been Renji. Her memory for facts is stellar, but her memory for events, things that have happened to her? Terrible. It’s like she _knows_ , but doesn’t truly remember. And that’s what it’s like with the other memories, too, the ones that are hers without really being hers. Another life, in another world, where this one was just a story. She only has a vague knowledge of when in that story she is, too - she and Hatake Kakashi are of an age, but that’s all she knows. She doesn’t know who she is, what she may have already changed just by existing, what she can even hope _to_ change, in the future. She’s three, when she makes a decision about it.

“Tou-san,” she says, carefully, and her dad looks up from where he’s sharpening a kunai at the kitchen table, eyebrows raised. “Do you believe in reincarnation?”

Her dad sets his kunai and whetstone down and turns to face her fully, beckoning her closer. She goes, setting her hands on his knees and looking up at him. He smiles and reaches forward to sweep a loose piece of hair behind her ear.

“What brought this on, sweetheart?”

Renji can’t help it; she gives him a Look, and he laughs.

“Just like your mother,” he mutters, and then, “most people don’t remember. I guess you do, if you’re asking, huh?”  
“Mm,” Renji says, and her father sighs and picks her up, sets her on his lap with an arm looped around her waist. “But not here. None of this was real, just make-believe.”  
“Ah,” says her dad, a frown wrinkling his brow. “Well, we’re here, now, aren’t we? That makes us real, doesn’t it?”  
“Oh,” she says, and pulls on her top lip gently. “Of course it’s all in your head,” she whispers, “but why on earth should that mean it’s not real?”

Even at her quietest, her dad can still hear her. He sets his free hand on top of her head, warm and heavy and reassuring.

“I guess you just have to live this life as best you can,” he says, and she nods, lip firmly between thumb and forefinger knuckle.  
“The story was… sad, sometimes. I don’t want that to happen again.”  
“Then get strong, and change it.”  
“Yeah,” she says, and doesn’t say anything about how the nearest tragedy is one she doesn’t think anyone could change, no matter how hard they try.

\---

“Our baby girl is really something, you know,” Kizashi murmurs to his wife that night, his chin propped on her shoulder. “Not only blessed enough to remember a past life, but one from another reality.”  
“And if she truly does remember this as a story? Shouldn’t we…”  
“What, hand her over to T&I? Pump her for information? Let her think she has to take every burden on alone?”  
“Yes, alright, I was being foolish,” Mebuki admits, and sighs. “So… make sure she knows that just because her life may bear some similarity to a story she once read, it’s not her responsibility to… to fix things. That people make their own choices.”  
“I knew there was a reason I agreed to marry you,” Kizashi says, and kisses her bare shoulder. Mebuki laughs.  
“And here I thought it was the kunai at your throat.”

Kizashi drifts off to sleep soon after, but Mebuki lies awake, staring at the ceiling. Her priorities as a shinobi of Konoha war with her sensibilities as a mother, and she still hasn’t quite made a decision by the time dawn breaks, weak light filtering through their bedroom window.

She dresses quietly, leaving her husband asleep, and pads through the quiet house to the kitchen where, despite the early hour, her daughter is sitting at the table with a bowl of cereal, spoon in her mouth as she squints at a basic kana sheet.

“Why don’t you tell me about this story of yours,” says Mebuki, and Renji looks up, tilts her head to one side, and nods.  
“It was a long way off from now,” she says, and shovels another heaping spoonful of breakfast into her mouth. “Twenty… something years, I think. There wasn’t a lot of proper backstory.”  
“Hm.”

Renji pauses, taps her spoon against her teeth briefly, and then says, “I don’t think I existed, in the story.”  
“Then,” says Mebuki, measured, “you can’t rely on it, can you?”  
“A lot of it was already in the works now,” she says, moving her gaze back to her worksheet. “But I dunno how much of that anyone could change. The important things haven’t happened yet, anyway.”  
“They might never, now.”  
“...I hope so,” her daughter settles on, and Mebuki lays a hand on her shoulder. Renji leans into it.  
“Do you want to enroll in the Academy?”  
“ _Yes_!” Renji says, startlingly loud in the dawn quiet, and then ducks her head, embarrassed. “Yeah. Even if I’m not good at physical stuff, maybe I _will_ be. And…”  
“And?” Mebuki prompts, amused, fairly sure she knows.  
“Well, Kashi’s going. If he goes to the Academy and I go to civ school, neither of us will know anyone.”  
“Altruistic of you.”

Renji pulls a face, and Mebuki smiles and presses a kiss to the top of her head.

“I’ll tell your dad when he gets up. Now, did you want a hand with that kana?”  
“I always forget which one is _re_ and which one is _ne_! And _nu_ and _me_!”

\---

Opinions on Haruno Renji among the Academy’s chuunin-sensei are… mixed, to say the least.

“She shouldn’t be allowed to graduate at all, let alone early,” despairs Momo, face buried in her hands. “She can barely walk in a straight line, let alone throw a punch - or Sage forbid a kunai.”  
“Her bookwork is exemplary,” Junbe says, tapping a pen against his notepad. “Her ethics and shinobi rules are… unorthodox, but she always makes sure her answers are at least technically correct before she starts in on how the system could be improved.”  
“Her kunoichi lessons,” starts Tsukane, and then pauses, picking up her coffee. Momo scowls at her. “She’s certainly not a natural, but I haven’t seen a more enthusiastic kid in years, especially in ikebana. She’s obsessed with hanakotoba.”

Junbe smothers a laugh, and Tsukane raises an eyebrow at him. He waves a hand dismissively.

“One of the assistant medics refused to treat a graze on her palm, and the next morning she gave him a fish geranium.”

Tsukane puts her head down on the desk and laughs. Momo leans over her colleague and says, “Okay, she’s a sassy little shit, but if we give her a headband she will _die_.”  
“So we keep her until standard graduation age,” Junbe says, patting Tsukane absently on the shoulder. “If her taijutsu and conditioning don’t improve over the next eighteen months, focus her elsewhere. Iryo ninjutsu, genjutsu, whatever’ll keep her out of the line of fire. It’d be a waste to drop her.”  
“I hate it when you’re right.”  
“It’s my curse.”

\---

“You know, I’m not as jealous as I thought I’d be,” Renji says as she threads flowers into Kakashi’s hair, under and around his headband.  
“You’ll get here,” Kakashi promises, and Renji hums.  
“The uniform is really ugly, though,” she says, adjusting a juniper flower. “Those sandals, ugh. How are they even useful with those open toes?”  
“It’s just how it is,” Sakumo-oji says, and Renji screws up her face and wrinkles her nose at him.  
“That’s a--”  
“Bad reason, we know,” Kakashi finishes, and Renji blows a raspberry and pinches him on the ear. “Ow, Ren!”  
“Don’t sass me, Kashi. You should get out of the habit, you know, or you’ll end up sassing your new sensei, and who knows how that’ll end.”  
“Ah, I don’t think that’ll be a problem, Renji-chan,” Sakumo says, chuckling, and pats her on the head. Renji squints up at him, thoughtful, and reaches up to tuck a flower behind his ear.  
“Do you know who Kashi’s sensei is?”  
“Would I keep something like that from you?” he asks, all wide-eyed innocence, and Kakashi snorts.  
“Yes,” he mutters.  
“You’ll be fine, kid,” Sakumo promises, tone gentle, and sets a hand on Kakashi’s knee. “Besides, it’ll just be you and your sensei, for a while. He’ll keep you safe.”  
“I know,” Kakashi says, assured in this, at least, and Renji gives herself a brief moment to rest her forehead against the back of his shoulder, and just breathe. Kakashi will be fine, even on the front lines, she tells herself. _You know this. You **know**_ , and ignores the voice that whispers, _what if you’ve already changed things?_

\---

“Morning, Tsume-san!” says Haruno Kizashi, cheerful as ever, as he walks into the Inuzuka clinic, and Tsume raises a hand in greeting. “I thought you were out on missions!”  
“Ah, finished the latest border run early,” she says dismissively, already turning to the shelves to find what he needs. Kizashi, she learnt young, is a very strange man, even for a shinobi. Especially one whose summons are so _dour_ ; most of his ocelots look like they’d rather claw their own eyes out than have fun. Still, they do good work together, so she forgives him for his feline companions. “We got a surplus, so it’s ten percent off,” she tells him as she sets the food bag on the counter, and cuts a glance to the kid at Kizashi’s side.  
“Thanks,” says Kizashi, and his kid, practically vibrating, tugs on his sleeve and gives him an imploring look, which he smiles indugently at. “Go on,” he murmurs, and the kid turns to Tsume.  
“Is it okay if I say hello to the dogs?” she asks, and Tsume would never admit it to anyone, but her heart melts a little. Most kids don’t even want to get close to an Inuzuka hound, let alone have the courage to flat out ask if they can.  
“I dunno,” she says, thoughtful, as Kuromaru sidles up beside her, “whatcha gonna do for me?”

Kizashi smothers a laugh, and the kid frowns thoughtfully, tugging on her top lip.

“I can sweep up, and-- you need someone to sit with the animals after they have surgery, right, until they come round? I can do that!”

That is way, way more industrious than Tsume was expecting, and she raises an eyebrow and looks to Kizashi, who shrugs one shoulder, still smiling.

“How about this,” Tsume says, coming around the counter and crouching in front of the girl. “You come by Wednesdays and Thursdays after the Academy lets out, you brush all the longhairs, you sweep up, and I’ll give you fifty ryo a time and you can spend as long with the dogs as you like, long as they’re okay with it.”

The kid’s face is incandescent, and she bounces on her toes, looking up at her father, who nods, and then back to Tsume, and she sticks a hand out.

“I’m Renji,” she says seriously, and Tsume solemnly shakes the tiny pale hand. “I’ll see you on Wednesday, Inuzuka-san!”  
“Call me Tsume, or you’ll get half the compound every time you call me.”  
“Okay, Tsume-san!”

\---

In the winter of her eighth year, Daikoku-sensei pulls her out of class.

“Your father has returned from his mission,” he says, and Renji steels herself at his tone. “He's in the hospital.”  
“Will he live?” she asks, and her voice cracks on the last word.  
“Yes,” says Daikoku-sensei, “but Haruno-kun, your father will never be a shinobi again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fish geraniums symbolise disappointed expectations. juniper symbolises protection.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Renji's situation is forced to change, and she makes friends with a snake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [bill oddie voice] on this episode of springwatch: two cats, a snake, and a VERY GOOD DOG

Daikoku-sensei escorts her to the hospital, right up to the door of her father’s room, and then pats her awkwardly on the shoulder. “We’re giving you the week, and your other sensei will have the work you’ve missed ready for you when you return.”

“Thank you,” Renji says, absently, and pushes the door open. Her dad looks strange, all covered in bandages and with an oxygen tube. He’s sleeping, not unconscious, she can tell - he’s snoring, very quietly. His eldest summon, Maki, is curled up in the empty space below his left knee.

 

Renji takes a seat in the uncomfortable plastic chair, props her chin on her knees, and begins to cry.

 

When she looks up some time later, Maki is watching her, tail flicking back and forth gently. One ear twitches when she meets his gaze, and he stretches languorously.

 

“Done?” he asks, not unkindly, and Renji considers it for a moment, takes a deep breath, then scrubs at her face and nods. “Apart from the obvious, there was some head trauma,” he starts, settling back onto his haunches a little closer to her father than he was. “Nothing catastrophic, apparently, but brain injuries…”

“It’s difficult to know,” Renji agrees, moving her gaze to her father, who snorts in his sleep, and continues snoring.

“He’s had a couple of… lapses,” Maki says, and sets about washing his face as if he hasn’t a care in the world, though his lashing tail gives him away.

“Lapses?” she asks, and the ocelot hums.

“Moments where he just _stops_. Haven’t lasted long, but the medics don’t think they’ll improve.”

“Absence seizures,” Renji says, understanding dawning. That would certainly explain Daikoku-sensei’s assertion that her father won’t be going back to active service. She frowns a little, pulling on her top lip in thought. “Mama will have to get a promotion,” she says, staring into the middle distance, “and if he keeps having absence seizures, I won’t be able to spend days or weeks away on missions.”

“He wouldn’t want you to drop out just for him, kitten,” Maki says, very quietly, and Renji gives him a thin, sad smile.

“That’s why I have to.”

 

It’s not as though shinobi get pensions or anything, after all - what’s the point, when so few of them survive long enough to retire? But it’s okay-- she may want to be a shinobi to protect her precious people, but they’d done their first field trip last week and she’d cried for an hour after she had to kill a pheasant. She can ask Tsume-san about doing more work around the veterinary clinic. She can keep learning, maybe, even if she won’t ever get a headband. She’s sure Kakashi will teach her whatever his sensei’s teaching him.

 

“It’ll work itself out,” she promises, and Maki hops from the bed to her lap, curls himself up in a tight ball, and purrs until she falls asleep.

 

\---

 

Orochimaru does not frequent the Inuzuka clinic shop often, but Kiyohime is ill and refusing to eat anything but the cheap Inuzuka-made pellets he hasn't had to buy since he was a money-conscious genin. Whilst the Inuzuka behind the till goes to find his purchase, he takes a moment to wander the veterinary recovery area, peering into cages containing sleeping animals with cones and bandages, nodding respectfully at an old one-eyed wildcat lounging on a shelf, and--

 

“I wish my hair was as pretty as that shinobi's,” sighs a quiet voice, and Orochimaru raises his eyebrows as he turns to find the source, which turns out to be a child with pale pink hair, barely visible beneath a huge wolfhound. He gently raises a hand to his hair, half up, half down, a neat topknot secured with a fine comb that had belonged to his mother.

 

“Most shinobi would find such a descriptor offensive,” he says lightly.

“Gender is a social construct,” blurts the child, then groans and hides against the wolfhound's shoulder. “Nobody else _cares_ , Renji.”

“You are quite correct,” says Orochimaru, and when the child's gaze snaps to his, faintly hurt, adds, “on the former point. Most adults cannot grasp such, let alone a child. It is easier to let them think me a man.”

“Being a girl is exhausting sometimes, but trying to explain it is worse,” she says, and pats the dog gently as she wriggles out from beneath it, then stands and gives him a bow. “Haruno Renji. It's nice to meet you.”

“Ah,” he says, smiling despite himself. “Last Laugh's daughter. The sentiment is mutual. I am Orochimaru.”

 

Haruno startles, as if she hadn't realised just who she was talking to, and then - of all the reactions he might have expected, this is not one - she smiles brightly, and bows again.

 

“Got your snake food, Orochimaru-sama,” calls the Inuzuka working the shop.

“Perhaps I will see you again, Haruno-kun,” he offers, and the child gives him a thumbs up, folding herself back down onto the floor, where the wolfhound promptly crawls onto her lap.

“I work most afternoons, and mornings in the weekend!”

 

He had not, he admits to himself, been planning to return to the clinic unless absolutely necessary, but-- when was the last time someone smiled at him like that, entirely without artifice?

 

\---

 

Renji learns new things about her dad quickly, when he's at home full time, and the biggest is this: her dad is a _menace_ when he's bored. On the plus side, she hasn't had to do any housework for weeks, but--

 

“Dad,” she calls down the stairs, frowning into the airing cupboard, “where did you put the bedclothes?”

“Which ones?” her dad hollers back. “The red ones are under the--” Renji waits, counts the seconds, and after twenty-three seconds of silence, “dark grey set, on the bottom shelf.”

“Thanks,” she replies, and digs them out under the sound of her dad's conspicuous footsteps on the stairs.

“I did it again,” he says, and it's not a question.

“Twenty-three seconds,” she confirms, and dumps the bedsheets and duvet cover into his arms, taking the pillow cases for herself.

 

He sighs, scrubs a hand through his hair - shockingly pink, and in need of a trim - and nods, turning towards her room. “I'll put it on the list.”

 

As the medics predicted, his absence seizures haven't abated, and he goes to the hospital weekly, with a log of all of his seizures, and their duration. There's always at least one ocelot in the house, now, and more than that when she's at the Inuzuka clinic - one to stay home with Dad and one to come fetch her, if something happens. She wants to sign the contract, but she hasn't brought it up with him or the cats themselves yet - she doesn't know if she has the reserves, or the chakra control, after only two years at the academy. She might have officially withdrawn, but most of her sensei still bring her worksheets - “Huh, I must have written out one too many,” says Daikoku-sensei, and covers the front hallway in leaves when he shunshins out, leaving her with a pile of fuinjutsu worksheets that she's pretty sure aren't even part of the curriculum.

 

“How's your studying going?”

“Good!” she says brightly, and he wraps his free arm around her waist in a brief hug. “I might go out early tomorrow and see if I can grab someone at the academy to go over the latest stuff with me, if that's okay?”

“What, I'm not good enough?” he asks dramatically, and she scoffs and smacks him in the face with a pillowcase.

“Your handwriting is worse than mine,” she says, and her dad tips his head, admitting defeat, as he shakes the sheet out.

 

“You flunked the sealing unit,” says a voice from floor level, and Renji snaps her gaze to its source delightedly. Her dad groans and pretends to smother himself with the sheet, and the ocelot - Asahi, a juvenile with a dark stripe across her eyes - nips his achilles tendon. “Twice.”

 

“Oh my god,” Renji whispers, gleeful, “tell me _everything_.”

 

(She mentions her father's apparent lack of fuinjutsu capability to Junbe-sensei, who makes a rural sign for warding off evil and says, “I've heard stories, and I am eternally grateful Haruno Kizashi graduated the year before I started teaching. _You_ could stand to do a little more calligraphy practice, though.”)


End file.
